With the funds borrowed from Zhang Fan, Zhou Zheng moved the renovation plans for the new apartment up his priority list.

Back in college, Zhou Zheng had actually saved up a decent sum from part-time work. Later, when he returned to teach at Beiquan High School, the school had given him forty thousand yuan as a settling-in allowance.

Part of this money Zhou Zheng gave to his grandmother for her care in old age; the rest went toward repairing the house his parents had left behind.

Twenty years ago, in the countryside, single-family small townhouses had just started coming into fashion — not particularly good-looking, boxy and square like matchboxes. When Zhou Zheng’s father and second uncle split the family property, the two brothers each took a plot of residential land, and Zhou Zheng’s family was the first to put up their small house.

The family savings weren’t much — the house got its foundation laid and its frame built, and Zhou Zheng’s parents did a simple whitewash of the ground floor before moving the whole family in, leaving the second floor as an unfinished shell of raw red brick, waiting for money to come along before resuming construction.

After Zhou Zheng’s parents suddenly passed away, the house sat unfinished for many years. As the village’s small houses gradually went up one after another, the Zhou family’s place became the shabbiest, most run-down one of all. It wasn’t until Zhou Zheng graduated from college and returned to his hometown that he redid the entire house — tiling the walls, finishing the interior — that the home was finally, completely done.

From his parents’ own hands laying the bricks and raising the beams, to Zhou Zheng finally sealing the doors and windows, more than a decade had passed.

That unfinished matter weighing on Zhou Zheng’s heart had, at last, come to completion.

Even though it was just a countryside house, Zhou Zheng at least had some renovation experience by now. In a small city, there weren’t really any reliable interior designers or renovation companies to be found, so relying entirely on information gathered online and his own aesthetic sense, Zhou Zheng did his homework meticulously, even teaching himself a bit of 3D modeling and rendering.

Lin Shuang caught an accidental glimpse of his computer screen and the design blueprints spread across his desk, and sighed, leaning against the wall.

It was just a house renovation — did it really warrant this much seriousness? So many people shared their renovation experiences online, and there were neighbors too — couldn’t everyone just copy off each other’s homework and call it done?

Oh right, he was the top student — only other people copied off him, never the other way around.

She didn’t get involved in the house matters, but on nights when the two of them tumbled into bed together, Zhou Zheng would browse home decor websites doing his research before sleep, and Lin Shuang, lying on his stomach playing with her phone, couldn’t help a small flicker of resentment building up.

“What’s wrong?” He patted her cheek.

“You’re distracted!” She frowned.

She tried to tease him, but Zhou Zheng showed not the slightest reaction.

“I’m not,” Zhou Zheng said, setting his phone aside, leaning down to kiss her.

The soft, fragrant, dream-worthy girl was right there in his arms — before, he would read while entangled with her, sometimes even going for a second round if the mood struck. Now Zhou Zheng seemed a bit distracted, cleaning up afterward, sometimes even getting up to turn on his computer and busy himself with his own things, leaving her to sleep alone.

The weather had turned cold, exactly the season when she grew languid and slept well, needing a human furnace beside her.

Lin Shuang wasn’t happy about it in the slightest.

She wasn’t quite sure herself what she was unhappy about.

Probably a bit of disappointment.

Zhou Zheng really was busy these days — matters both inside and outside of school lining up one after another, needing to earn money to support the family, squeezing in trips to the building materials market, and taking care of things at home besides — his whole heart thrown fully into the future.

It seemed that ever since meeting Lin Shuang, his entire life had settled into place like dust finally coming to rest — weighty, and endlessly busy.

He stayed busy, and Lin Shuang didn’t press him on it either — she kept plenty busy herself, cycling through the beauty salon, dance classes, and the yoga studio. Miao Cai had a friend who’d opened a murder mystery role-play shop and had recently been dragging Lin Shuang along often to check it out.

For several days running, Lin Shuang went out at night, coming home to sleep in her own room afterward, going through a spell of restrained, almost vegetarian-monk-like living.

Zhou Zheng quickly noticed.

He really hadn’t had much free time lately, hadn’t properly kept her company in a while.

This wasn’t what he’d intended.

He thought about it for quite a while, and finally went to her room carrying a stack of color swatches, asking for her help picking colors.

“These are the paint and flooring color swatches for the new place. I tried matching them myself, but it’s not turning out the way I imagined — it’s a bit tricky.” Zhou Zheng furrowed his brow. “Shuangshuang, you studied fashion design — you must have a good eye for color.”

Lin Shuang glanced up from her phone as he laid the swatches out one by one on the floor for comparison.

“What kind of color scheme are you going for?”

Zhou Zheng pulled up a photo on his phone: “Something like this color combination.”

Lin Shuang set her phone down, considered it for a moment, and pulled a few swatches off the floor to hand to him: “These few are close to the color you want.”

He switched to another home decor photo: “What about this one? The study doesn’t actually get much natural light — would a shade lighter work better?”

Lin Shuang frowned, silently pulling swatches from the floor and handing them over to him.

Such a small task, resolved quickly. Zhou Zheng lingered, packing up slowly, then invited her warmly: “Want to come to my room?”

She shot him a sideways glance, head down, blunt and to the point: “No!”

Zhou Zheng ran a hand through her hair.

Lin Shuang went back to playing her phone game, absorbed in her own world.

He sat beside her, watching her play, the little figure on screen leaping across rooftops, gathering coins in a dazzling flurry.

“What all does fashion design involve studying?” Zhou Zheng asked, looking for a topic to chat with her about. “Is the major interesting?”

“You learn tailoring — not particularly fun.” Her university had been a third-tier school within the province — honestly, she’d just been coasting through, never taking her studies too seriously. Fashion design was an expensive major to begin with; back then the school had a study-abroad program where you’d spend two years studying the fundamentals domestically before applying to schools abroad for further studies. Unfortunately, her family’s fortunes had collapsed, and she’d stayed at the school, stumbling through all four years instead.

“After graduating, did you become a fashion designer? The kind who dresses models for runway shows?” Zhou Zheng stroked his chin. “Standing behind the spotlights dressing the models, scissors in hand, snip snip, cutting out some unique look, then pushing the model onto the stage at the critical moment?”

Lin Shuang couldn’t help but laugh at that, glancing sideways at him: “What kind of nonsense TV have you been watching?”

“That’s how it’s always shown on TV and in movies,” he said, laughing too. “Or in one of those artsy, super high-end office buildings, dressed sharp and stylish, sketching on a giant screen, working late into the night revising design drafts, then sending them off to the factory to be made into finished garments, finally displayed in shop windows as beautiful clothes — surely that’s how it is.”

She paused her game: “What you’re describing isn’t nonexistent, but that’s the top tier, the first-rate fashion designers. Someone from a bottom-tier major like mine, a small-time tailor — I can’t even get near that stage.”

“Then tell me about it — I’ve never had any contact with this kind of industry at all.” Zhou Zheng coaxed her gently, stroking her hair. “A pretty girl making pretty dresses — the clothes she makes must be beautiful too. How could it possibly be bottom-tier?”

“Say bottom-tier and you still don’t believe me.” Her tone paused for a moment, drawn in by his words, the corner of her mouth curling with a hint of a smile. “I worked as a knockoff designer in a factory — honestly this whole industry is just copying back and forth, everyone watching trend directions, tweaking things slightly and reselling them. After a while there, I quit and used my savings to rent a small storefront in a clothing wholesale market, selling the popular women’s fashion of the time, doing a bit of my own design work too, hanging pieces up in the shop to sell.”

“But I actually did make a few pieces that turned out well — I designed a dress myself, my very first one, and someone took a liking to it and ordered four hundred of them in one go… That was the first real money I ever made. I’d nearly been unable to keep the shop going, and that dress alone netted me several tens of thousands of yuan.”

“That’s really impressive. What kind of dress was it — have I seen you wear it?”

Lin Shuang, sure enough, tossed her phone aside and dug excitedly through her closet, pulling out a floral print dress, eyes lit up with brightness. “This one right here — doesn’t it look kind of cheap and common now? That’s because everyone copied me afterward. The original is right here with me.”

Zhou Zheng had no idea about that dress, of course had never seen it before, but still gave her his enthusiastic support, sitting on the floor gazing up at his girl: “It’s beautiful.”

Right in front of him, Lin Shuang happily changed into the dress, revealing her long, slender legs and pale back, sexy and enticing, striking a playful pose: “I even took my own model photos for it, hung them up in the shop. Too bad I didn’t quite know the ropes back then, missed a good opportunity — otherwise I could’ve made an even bigger profit.”

It was the first time she’d talked this much — going on about the design of the dress, her thoughts and experience, the fabric and the cut. Zhou Zheng listened quietly, nodding along from time to time.

Math and fashion — two completely disconnected worlds.

Night grew late, and Lin Shuang shooed him off: “Back to your own room.”

Zhou Zheng lingered, refusing to leave.

The blanket rustled as Zhou Zheng squeezed into the same bed with her, his body giving off a pleasant scent, warm and heated, muscles clearly defined, pressed against her back, hormones crackling in the air.

Lin Shuang felt scorched by his body heat.

“This is my bed,” Lin Shuang said, elbowing him. “Get down.”

Zhou Zheng didn’t budge an inch, one arm locking firmly around her waist.

“I’ve been really busy lately — the mid-term exams, the provincial seven-school joint exam, rushing to keep up with the teaching schedule, even evening study is full lecture time.” He brought her hand up to his throat, his Adam’s apple sliding beneath her fingers as he spoke. “Listen, my voice has gone hoarse again.”

Indeed, his voice came out rough and raspy, tinged with a magnetic, deep quality.

Whenever the seasons turned cold, his throat inflammation would flare up again — an occupational hazard, nothing to be done about it.

“Drink more hot water,” Lin Shuang said dismissively.

“When I was little, in winter I slept on a single bed too. The bed frame was really high, the bed even narrower than this one of yours — in the middle of the night I’d roll over in my sleep and fall right off, then groggily climb back up hugging my blanket. Sometimes I’d sleep so soundly I’d just curl up with my blanket and sleep on the floor, all the way until morning.”

Lin Shuang’s bed could barely fit two slim adults.

“In summer I didn’t sleep on the bed at all — slept everywhere, on the bamboo cooling bed, in the rocking chair, on the wide bench, laid a mat down and slept on the floor, wherever it was coolest, that’s where I slept. Just got bitten by mosquitoes a lot, had to keep the mosquito coil burning all night.”

“Sounds like a very mischievous kid.”

“What countryside kid isn’t mischievous.” Zhou Zheng tucked her hair behind her ear. “Me and Shunzai — back then all the village kids were our little followers. I was the ringleader, Shunzai was second-in-command. We did all kinds of mischief together.”

Lin Shuang closed her eyes, said flatly: “No wonder Shunzai’s always at your beck and call — turns out he’s been your right-hand man since childhood.”

“It wasn’t like that later on. In fourth grade I went to study in the town, boarding at school. Later I tested into a high school in the city, and went home even less after that, sleeping on a single dorm bed all the way through college.” His topic circled back around. “Speaking of which… that bed next door, it’s actually the first double bed I’ve ever bought in my life. Well, not that I really bought it — you picked it out, I just placed the order.”

“The renovation’s started on the house — I went to the building materials market today, bought some supplies.” Zhou Zheng said. “Spending money is easy, but choosing is hard. Sometimes I get anxious, wanting a hundred percent perfect home, but not knowing where the definition of perfect even lies, or what exactly a home is supposed to look like.”

“But actually, home has nothing to do with the house, does it.” He sighed. “None of that really matters that much. I should spend more time with you instead.”

She glanced at him.

Her boyfriend had one good quality — he was quite smart.

“Shuangshuang.”

“Mm.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, apologetically. “Being with you — in every way, it’s been unfair to you.”

She threaded her fingers into his hair, holding his head, his body pressing down on her, and she could clearly feel her own heart beating, slow and steady.

Lin Shuang mumbled something.

“What?” He lowered his head to ask her.

“If you’re too busy… some of the less important things, I can help you out with.” Her expression seemed nonchalant. “But you’ll have to repay me.”

“How should I repay you?”

Lin Shuang glanced sidelong at him, pursing her red lips.

Zhou Zheng’s movements were very gentle, propping himself up on the pillow with one arm, leaning in to kiss her.

Her slender waist twisted back slightly, her eyes half-lidded and alluring, tilting her head to return his kiss.

The feeling arose naturally, slow yet steady, rippling outward in layers like water — not the surging crash of a tide, but an unhurried, gentle ease.

Within this soothing rhythm, he would still pause every so often to linger in a tender, drawn-out kiss with her.

The sensation was strange — their bodies seemed to melt together, becoming part of one another, no longer distinguishing you from me.